We're Followin' The Leader
by Ash Light
Summary: Riff and Tony leave town, and Action discovers it's no picnic to be in charge of the Jets when he's left holding the baby. Pre-Movie; rated for slight language.
1. The Young and the Restless

Note: Inspired by an episode of M*A*S*H and a passage of the WSS novelisation; this was thought up after I started wondering why Ice was created in the film for the purpose - as I see it - of taking over the gang. After all, why couldn't Action do it? And then you look at movieverse Action and realise that was never going to happen, bless him... Also answers the question of why Action never tries bucking for leadership of the gang himself. For **viennacantabile** and **LazyChestnut**, whose fics both make me laugh out loud and give such lovely encouragement.

-

_...With increasing frequency __Action had begun to wonder if he ought to challenge Riff for the leadership of the Jets. But if he did, and was successful, he would have to tell the Jets what to do, really lead them..._

_...Because Riff had to work at being a leader, the Jets were a close, well-knitted bunch, and none of the white gangs on other blocks wanted to tangle with them..._ _- _West Side Story novelisation

-

1: The Young and the Restless

-

If Action wasn't fourth-in-command and a lethal ball of unexploded energy, A-Rab thought sourly, he would have sedated his best friend a long time ago. As it was, he merely slumped down further in his chair, holding his lousy hand of ace-high up to his face so he didn't have to see the lieutenant pace about Doc's like a caged firework. Opposite him, thumbing through his cards with an extremely malicious smirk flitting about his face – which A-Rab did not like the look of _one bit_, no thankyou sir – Snowboy rolled his eyes.

Sometimes, just _sometimes_, it was ok just to hang at their designated clubhouse and not do _anything_. A-Rab lazily scanned over the cramped space of the drugstore, counting Jets – Baby John thumbing through a comic book, some of the girls sipping soda, Tiger playing solitaire, Ice huddled by the juke – and nodded; none of the guys were itching to go, go, go. A lazy Sunday afternoon meant just _that_, lazing around doing nothing in particular, and not caring if they weren't prowling the neighbourhood busting heads.

Try telling that to Action though.

"C'mon, c'mon, what's the action?" The Jet threw a dart savagely, so it hit the dartboard with a resounding _crack_. "Are we the Jets or ain't we?"

Joyboy looked up from the girlie magazine he was eagerly thumbing through. "Cut it, Action."

The back of his hand promptly cracked into Joyboy's skull, knocking him off balance. "Pipe down," Action growled, before promptly smacking his fist into his palm with such a sharp _thwack_ that Baby John nearly jumped off his chair. "I mean it – we've been poopin' around too long without gettin' cookin' – now where the devil're Riff 'n To – "

_ACHOO!_

A-Rab groaned as he slumped forward, throwing his cards on the table with a violent gesture. If Action's restless temper wasn't bad enough, Ice was definitely bugging the lot of them with his constant sneezing. Lingering outside for too long in the middle of the night for weeks on end (his suspicion pinned _that_ little fact on Velma) had brought Ice down with a hell of a cold; and the hefty lieutenant was now miserably huddled by the jukebox, spluttering and coughing at every miserable opportunity, eyes and nose streaming and Velma cooing over him like some goddamn angel of mercy. He grumpily flicked up the collar of his jacket, making a disgruntled face. No Riff, no Tony, and no Ice in good enough shape to tell Action where to go. Well wasn't that just dandy.

"_I mean it_," Action hissed between gritted teeth, dark eyes glowering furiously at Ice as though personally blaming the ailing Jet for interrupting his monologue. "Nothin's been _happenin'_ around here for ages – why the hell ain't we out there on the prowl?"

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin'," A-Rab retorted tensely, shifting as though all the wires in his body had been pulled taut. Hanging around Action for a length of time made any atmosphere seem tense and jumpy.

Not a second too soon, he ducked as Action's fist came sailing neatly where his skull had been half a moment ago. "I'd like ta see ya try – "

"Cool it Action!" Ice snapped sharply, managing to sound his irritation even through a cracked, clogged voice.

Stepping back slowly, Action knotted his fingers together, making his knuckles crack. "Go ahead, big man, tell me off." From the corner of his eye, A-Rab spotted Tiger and Mouthpiece straighten up uneasily, and felt his own muscles tighten. In-fighting was all very well and good, and a source of entertainment when there was nothing else going down, but right now everyone's nerves were getting just that little bit too tense to treat it as just a bit of fun. Besides, no-one wanted Action replacing Ice as third – going on second, if the rumours about Tony were true – in command. "Well, you gonna teach me a lesson, huh?"

"_Shuddup, Action!_" The entire cohort of the Jets chorused darkly. Action's searching for trouble was pissing just about everyone off. A scrunched up paper bag sailed over the counter and hit Action squarely in the eye.

The reaction was instantaneous. Whirling around, clenching a pop bottle in his fist, Action sought out the perpetrator hotly, frame tensed and eyes flashing fire. He found it in a grinning Big Deal, and took two steps forward, close to bubbling over. "Right, you little – "

"Cool it little man!" How the hell Riff managed to sneak up on them without notice was beyond him – certainly their second-in-command made himself known whenever possible – but there he was, sliding through the door as if he'd never been away. Winking to the cluster of Jet girls at the counter, he seized two handfuls of Action's shirt and jerked him back into place. Good thing too, A-Rab thought dryly; Action was an explosive ball of anger, but Big Deal _was_ a whole meter taller than him. "What's goin' down here?"

Action jerked a thumb towards Ice, who promptly coughed at him. "He started it."

Most gang leaders, A-Rab observed, could barely sit safe in their current position because they had a whole host of lieutenants jockeying for position. With Ice and Action, however, there was no need for Riff to worry. Ice was so cool he was frozen, and with Action – well, he burnt himself out so easy that if you took a step backwards you didn't have to worry. His on-going one-upmanship with Ice was enough to keep any ambition at bay, and Riff could pretty much sit easy.

Rolling his eyes, Riff catapulted Action neatly into a chair. "Save it Action," he reprimanded, before threading his fingers through themselves and clasping his hands at the base of his skull. Almost unconsciously, the Jets leaned forward. With Tony giving them the flick more and more lately, Riff was bouncing straight to their head without even a second thought, and boy, you could really tell. He was keeping things popping, just like the good old days when Tony was at top form. "Listen up buddy boys, you're gonna wanna hear this. Tony's old lady and his uncle want ta take a holiday for a coupla days…"

"Fascinatin'."

He paused to glare pointedly at Snowboy. "As a matter of factuality, it is – they're takin' me and Tony with." As one, the boys twitched enviously – holidays were rare enough; having one with your buddy and his old lady (who always had a soft spot for Riff) was close to heaven. "So from tomorrow, Ice is temporary commander, buddy boys."

The gang looked slowly at Ice. Ice sneezed again.

Tiger raised his brows dryly. "Ya know, somehow I just don't see that happenin'."

"Me neither!" Jumping to her feet from where she'd been crouched over a miserable Ice, Velma glared furiously at Riff until he took an uneasy step backwards. With her cool blue eyes narrowed and fists clenched in a way that suggested serious business, she could have made a good second lieutenant right then and there. "Riff, he ain't well enough to lead the Jets! Look at him, he's _sick_!"

Velma was so devoted to Ice that he could have had a paper cut and she'd be yelping about it. However, A-Rab had to admit as he glanced over at an ailing Ice, skin clammy and almost _grey_, the guy did not look good. Any Jet who was willing to let his girl speak up for him _had_ to be near death.

Riff, in a show of solidarity with his pal, gave him the once over. "He don't look too shoddy," he muttered, even if his eyes said different.

"He's _sick_. The only thing he's gonna be doin' is stayin' _in bed_," Velma muttered darkly.

"I'll bet," A-Rab snickered in an undertone. As Velma glowered venomously at him, he meekly subsided.

Hiding his own chuckle, Riff gave Ice a sympathetic look. "Whaddaya thinkin', buddy boy?"

Ice grinned weakly, nearly cringing with embarrassment. "Tell ya the truth, Daddy-O, the only thing I feel fit to do now is open a bottle of cough medicine." A-Rab, so used to seeing the great, solid Ice as an unflappable block of strength, nearly felt sorry for him.

Nearly did, until his trail of logic followed where Riff would turn next, and started feeling sorry for himself instead.

Swivelling on his heels, Riff pointed his fingers towards Action, who had been watching the entire exchange with an undisguised look of disdain on his face "Fine. Ice, you're off the hook – Action, you're temporary leader."

There it was.

"I'm the _who_?" Action repeated, looking just as stunned as the rest of the Jets. A-Rab could well understand it – making little plays to tell Riff what to do was one thing, actually taking charge and leading the Jets, really showing them what to do, was another.

From where he'd been wiping down glasses and generally staying out of the action, Doc raised his brows doubtfully. "There go the Jets."

For once, the fiery teen was so unnerved that he didn't even bother to give Doc hell for the sally, instead continuing to gape imploringly at Riff. "Who, me?" He gestured swiftly in A-Rab's direction. "What about A-Rab?"

Not him. A-Rab flicked his hand disdainfully, slouching down in his chair with a snort. "I don't want it."

Riff grinned. If he didn't know him better, A-Rab would have sworn he was enjoying this. "Good enough for me."

"_What_?"

"I ain't fit for command!" A-Rab sniggered, his grin spreading all the more as Action's cheeks turned a dusky shade of red. Oh boy, someone was going to suffer for this, and it was probably going to be him. "Now, if you want someone to _keep things cookin'_, Action's your boy, Riff…"

"You got seniority, Action." Riff chuckled, cutting across A-Rab with a swift gesture. Good thing too, A-Rab decided – too much more from him and Action would either have bust a vein or throttled him. "And you're stuck with it, whether ya like it or not."

Action folded his arms huffily across his chest. "But I dunno how to give orders!"

"Nothing worth worrying about," Doc chuckled from his sanctuary behind the counter, "none of you hoodlums know how to take 'em." With another grin he slipped out to the cellar as Action lunged at him.

Still sniggering, A-Rab signalled for Riff's attention. "Hey Riff, how long d'ya reckon you'll be gone?"

"About a week."

"We'll leave a sign where Doc's was." He grinned, and then ducked as Action rounded on him again.

-

You've really got to love Action...

**tbc**


	2. New Kid on the Block

Notes: A-Rab's taunt to Anybodys comes from the WSS novelisation...even though the book gets on my nerves. No songs, and the Jets are nowhere near as goofy and loveable as they are in the film/musical.

Still dedicated to **LazyChestnut** and **viennacantabile**, if only because their reviews make my life. And vienna's new icon made me choke on my drink with giggles. Painful, yes, but worth it.

-o-

2: New Kid on the Block

"Oh boy, I love it!" Nearly hanging off his chair, Snowboy banged on the flat of the table with his bottle. "Makin' Action leader; can ya believe it?"

The Jets hadn't even managed to wait until Tony's apartment door had swung shut before making their amusement known. With Riff and Tony out of sight and Action down in the cellar swiping chocolate-chip cookies; it was the perfect time to beef about their new (_temporary_) leader. Only A-Rab cast an uneasy eye back to the cellar door, leaning against the pinball machine with an affected slouch that didn't quite hide his irritation.

Smirking, Big Deal picked up a refill. "Ah, betcha he'll be no sweat. Just point him in the direction of some Hawks and watch the fireworks; nothin' to worry about."

"Yeah. Hey, Big Deal, didja ever seen those westerns where the town drunk's made Sheriff?" Snowboy gave a loud whoop and shook his head. "Man, what was Riff _thinkin'_?"

He was Action's best friend, which was why he made a disgruntled face, shaking his head. No-one better than A-Rab knew what a royal pain in the ass Action could be, and _alright_, he suspected Action was going to completely cock this up, but still; pals were pals. "Riff's got his reasons."

"So did the engineers on the Titanic," muttered Gee-Tar, who read for pleasure and was therefore the Jets' resident brains. "Look at how well _that_ went."

Chuckling, Snowboy gave A-Rab the finger. "You're pinnin' your hopes on the wrong guy, A-Rab. The only thing Action's got goin' for him is that it's sure gonna be funny to see him screw this up – "

"You think so, do you?"

Jesus, was it some kind of special power that was given to all gang leaders that let them sneak up on their men like that? Spinning around frantically, biting back a curse, A-Rab grimaced as he caught sight of Action, a particularly dark look in his eyes. The Jet glowered around at his fellow gang members before striding out to the nearest chair, kicking out as he did so. A-Rab was gratified to see his foot make direct contact with the leg of Snowboy's seat, spinning him off balance.

The cringe on Snowboy's part was almost instinctual. "Sorry Action. I'm sorry I laughed."

"So ya should be," the boy snapped roughly. Spinning around, Action jabbed an irritated finger at different members of the Jets. "Chrissakes, look at ya! Half of you're in the same places you was yesterday!"

"Right." Snapping his fingers at the rest of the gang and winking, Tiger came forward, leaning his elbow deftly against A-Rab's shoulder. "So what's your mood, Action?" As he leant forward expectantly, A-Rab nevertheless inwardly groaned as Mouthpiece drew closer from the other side, his elbow resting against his other shoulder.

Jesus. Tiger and Mouthpiece. Now A-Rab wasn't an antsy kind of guy, he rubbed along with pretty much everyone in the gang, but…well, the muscle heads could get a bit much. More than a bit much, especially when they started using him as an arm-rest. He scowled awkwardly, shifting position as his trainers scuffed against the floor. He _knew_ he was short, but would the guys let up? Would they hell. Wanting to be big wasn't helped by Godzilla's twin brothers rubbing it in at every opportunity. Boy, they really were a pair of pips, and dumb to boot – although not so dumb that they didn't know not to attach themselves to whoever was holding the balance of power in the Jets.

Action's dark eyes narrowed. From under his burden (jeepers creepers, how much did those two _weigh_?) A-Rab could pretty well appreciate the problem. Action was fourth in command, Riff's personal lieutenant and the best guy to have your back in a fight, but no-one let him make _decisions_. Tony and Riff just weren't that stupid. Not that Action was dumb – far from it, and you made that mistake at your peril – he was just the kind of guy to swing first and ask questions later. No-one _trusted_ him. To be suddenly asked what his fancy was…well, to a guy like A-Rab, who joked and jibed and was _never taken seriously_, that was like owning your own candy store. "What's _my _mood?" He repeated the words thoughtfully, as if getting used to how they felt in his mouth.

"Yeah," Mouthpiece grinned, popping his gum. "All-night movies? The chicks? Or you wanna see if we can't find any Hawks lurkin' on our turf?"

Tiger exchanged an amused look over the top of A-Rab's curly head. "Yeah, we can send the shrimp over to play lookout." One spade-like hand reached down to ruffle A-Rab's hair.

Oh _good_, Tiger was in one of his humorous moods. Clicking his tongue irritably, the smaller Jet rolled his eyes with a flourish.

If anything, Action's eyes narrowed even further. A-Rab ducked his head to smirk at what the knuckleheads hadn't noticed – that while he was small, their illustrious new leader was even shorter. With a jerk of his head, he signalled for them to let up. "Nah," he drawled, flashing a grin at his best friend. "We're goin' on patrol; but _you two_ can go play lookout if you're so keen. A-Rab, up front with me."

And _that_ was something else, A-Rab recognized with a snicker as he danced around Tiger and Mouthpiece before they figured out what had happened. With his buddy as leader someone, _someone_, had to be his second by default. Somehow he doubted it was going to be Ice. His teeth glinting in a triumphant smirk that he directed at Snowboy, he hooked his thumb behind his belt buckle with a swagger in his step; glowing in superiority by association. And despite their doubts, he could begin to feel the Jets' mood lighten, swelling up. Hanging around here was all very well and good, but there was nothing better than when they were out and treading their turf; when the Jets were ready for anything that anybody threw at them.

"Gettin' used to it, huh?" A-Rab chuckled, slinging his spare arm around his buddy's neck.

Action merely raised his eyebrows. "Might be. I'm tellin' ya, A-Rab, I dunno why everyone says Riff'n Tony do such a 'great job'. There's nothin' to it – "

_ACHOO!_

Terrific. As they stepped out over the threshold of Doc's drugstore, Action swivelled on his toes and jabbed an accusing finger at a pallid, shivering Ice. The Jet still cut an impressive figure, but the pink tinge of his eyes and nose swore blind that he was in no fit state to put up a fight. "And _you_…" their new leader growled, "either stuff somethin' up into that schnoz of yours or hold your breath until your sneezin' stops altogether, ya got that?"

For a moment the entire gang seemed to hold their breath. _No-one_ spoke to Ice like that.

And then Ice nodded slowly, holding up both hands in a show of defeat. There was an amused glint in his eye, as if he was merely humouring his friend, but the fact remained that Action was now walking away with all his limbs intact.

The murmuring amongst the Jets became a buzzing of whispered discussion.

"Can you_ say_ that to him?" Baby John whispered with a scandalised gasp.

Action grinned coolly back. "I'm leader for the duration, Baby John," he smirked. "I can get away with _anythin'…_"

-o-

Tiger shifted his feet awkwardly, grateful beyond words that the cellar was cool and dimly lit, hiding his burning face. Bias against anyone shorter than him aside, the Jet was a good, if slow, guy; and he certainly didn't deserve to be the Gang's quartermaster while Action was in charge.

"Why didja hafta drag me all the way down here?" Action snapped furiously, voice slightly muffled as he rootled through the hidden cellar bin that was their armoury. "Ain't it your job to see all this junk is sorted out?"

The cough which cleared his throat sounded nervous too. "Uh…yeah…yeah it is. But Riff always checked it out 'ccasionally, so's everything checked out ok, you know? I know Tony likes him to."

Well, this was all wrong for a start. Action huffed darkly, wincing as his hand cut on a length of bicycle chain; Machiavellian thoughts running through his head. _Boy, if I ever make leader for real, there's gonna be some changes around here. And it's gonna start with organisin' responsibilities, and teamwork, and expansion and Tiger gettin' his head kicked in; if I have any say in it. Which I will._

"An'…well, I asked Ice, an' he said I should get you to check it out…"

_When he is lyin' on the ground, writhin' in agony_, the Jets' noble leader mused_, Tiger is not going to be lonely._

"Fine," he forced through gritted teeth, a concession made only with the observation that Tiger was a whole head taller than him and built like a brick tank. You can take leadership only so far. Rolling his eyes, he made a sullen show of scrabbling his hands through the small, but deadly jumble of weapons. "Bike chains, brass knuckles, knives, knuckle-knives , ice picks." Resurfacing, Action shot Tiger a baleful look. "So?"

As predicted, Tiger shifted his feet further against the ground. He knew it, he _knew_ this was going to get awkward. "Not _all _them brass knuckles, Action." He looked close to agonised. "I mean, there's a pair missin'."

Action just blinked. "So?"

"Well, they cost, for one thing. An' for another – well, no-one's gonna let somethin' like that go missin'. Why wouldn't they give 'em back?"

Because most of the gang can think in more than a straight line, you dumb ape, Action thought. Somehow in the process of making its way from his mind to his mouth, the thought transformed itself into. "Protection on the way home?"

Even gang commanders have a survival instinct. Actually, due to their increasingly shaky position on the mountain that is a gang social structure, it is far more highly defined. Fists like a cow's ass are duly noted, and the owner of such fists are treated with caution.

Tiger looked all the more tortured. "Maybe…"

"Chrissakes, is this important Tiger?"

The young man winced. "Riff used ta take an interest…"

"_Is it important_?" Some voices can be used to cut glass. Action's could probably have punched through a steel wall.

Tiger's head hung. "No, Action."

Action just looked at him, before shrugging.

"Well then," he drawled carelessly. "Time to get back to leaderin', I s'pose." A sudden thought struck him. "Did Riff start frettin' about that kind of crap a lot?"

"Dunno, Action. He takes an interest, I know that. And Tony always liked to be told."

"No wonder nothin's ever happenin' around here." Action grumbled, but only half-heartedly. The wheels in his brain were starting to turn slowly. Sure, Riff…and Tony, he added swiftly, do stuff in a certain way. But they're not here at the moment, are they? I am.

And if anyone argued…

The gang leader is the first among equals. Well that was he. The word 'first' was, he gathered, germane in the situation – or at least, it would have been, if he knew what germane meant. This notion, translated into Action's thoughts, went thus: I'm the leader. I _knew_ we could do things better than this. Anyone who wants to argue can talk to me; I'm fine with that. We'll just see how well they manage it with half their teeth.

-o-

Action didn't even have to say anything the following morning when he walked into Doc's – Gee-Tar immediately got up from his chair, leaving it vacant. Alright, so he usually preferred to stand up or pace, expelling the surplus energy that was churning up inside of him, but that was the thing, wasn't it? Leadership. The perks of the job. Usually he had to grab Baby John by the scruff of the neck and haul his ass out of a chair if he wanted one, because he was Action and that was how he _did_ things. It was _expected_ of him to rough up the lower-downs a bit. It kept his reputation running. And _now_…now he was the _leader_, and people did stuff for him. He smirked. And as A-Rab swaggered in, swiping a cigarette pack from the counter, another chair was vacated. If Action had been smug, you could have lit candles from A-Rab's grin.

The mood was, typically, ruined by Ice, who kicked the back of his chair warningly. "Joyboy and Mouthpiece," he muttered, nodding to where the pair of Jets were – well, _discussing_ was a polite description of the hissed whispers that were being exchanged between the two. Bodies were being shifted ever so slightly so two pairs of hands were left free. "You want I should do somethin' about it?"

Action cast a lazy eye over the proceedings with a tremendous lack of interest, ignoring Ice's pointedly subservient tone. Alright, so the two bickered occasionally, but who didn't? Exchanging thinly veiled threats and asserting your authority was just a way of life. Besides, even if it did result in a tussle, who cared? As far as Action, who considered the day wasted unless he'd busted a head or two, was concerned, they could punch each other's lights out if it made them happy. "Aw, lettem alone. They ain't doin' anything wrong."

Ice raised an eyebrow. "You should keep an eye on them."

_Should_? His eyes narrowed. "Look, if they wanna fight, they can fight." Action's teeth gritted. "I'm the leader, not a buggin' babysitter."

"Well, you're the boss…" Ice's hands spread carelessly, as if absolving him of all responsibility.

"Yeah. I am."

Already impatient with this conversation, Action pushed himself up roughly from the chair, striding over to get himself a drink. His movements were jerky, quick – but not quick enough to get him out of earshot from Ice's cool mutter of: "Riff would've kept an eye on things."

It was enough to spark of Action's already edgy temper; although these days anything was enough for that. Flaring up, he whirled around, eyes flashing. "Well Riff ain't here right now, is he? I am!" Without waiting for an answer he continued to pace across the length of the store, pushing past Big Deal; who was sitting at a table on his own, head heavily in his hands. "Move it, Big Deal."

If the boy said something in reply to this, Action didn't hear it.

Swigging down the bottle of soda that Doc had left out on the counter for him – and that was _another_ thing about this job, Doc was no longer patronising the hell out of him; just quietly and indulgently keeping out of his way – Action let out a soft groan as the doors swung open to admit Graziella, Clarice, Minnie, Pauline and Bridget. He didn't like Graziella at the best of times (boy, but he was damn _sure_ that that broad had cotton candy stuffed where her brain should have been), and now with no Riff to complain to, she was just a further inconvenience. Besides, he didn't like the idea that a chick might latch onto the new leader just because of his status. If Graziella came after him, he was quite cheerfully hiding down in the basement; Jet or no Jet, leader or no leader.

As for the others...well, Clarice latched onto anything wearing trousers, Minnie was a bubblehead, and Pauline was _smart_, which meant she had a tendancy to be unreasonably reasonable at times. And Action _really_ couldn't be having with Bridget, if only because she was his cousin.

"Aw, whaddaya lot want?" He couldn't help but grumble. Today he had been planning on reclaiming a patch of turf that the Hawks had apparently tried to set up camp in – chicks just didn't feature into the equation. Besides, Action got edgy around the Jet dames, he just didn't know why. He'd never had a lasting relationships with girls, only little flings, nothing to get hot and heavy over – and even then it had always been with a dame outside the group. The knowledge that he'd be discussed and analysed with Graziella, Velma and the others the next day just set his teeth on edge.

Graziella raised an eyebrow. With Riff out of town her persuasive tactics were severely limited; she certainly wasn't going to nag _him_ into submission the way she could with her boyfriend. "Just thought we'd come and say hey, _Daddy-O_." Her mouth twitched in a smirk. "See how the new job's suitin' ya."

_It's wrong to hit girls_, Action repeated to himself, _it's wrong to hit girls…_

"Gee, I'm touched," he drawled back, twitching with frustration. He didn't need to look back to sense the rest of the gang's irritation – 'sides from Ice and Vel, who were about as tight as a couple could get, it could get damn wearing with the chicks surfacing at such an early time. If they came around when there was business planned, you could bet they'd be like limpets when it came time to shake them off. "But we got special business planned today. And I ain't sure you're invited."

"Try me."

_Maybe if he just wrung her neck…Riff wouldn't mind that, would he? Would probably be doin' him a favour…_ "I really don't think so, Graz. You might get your hair messed up."

He didn't even have to look at her to know Graziella was seething. Behind her, he could see Pauline tapping her foot with barely concealed impatience – but then again, that was probably to be expected, given that she and A-Rab had been on a date last week and Action would have bet his last cent that he hadn't called her yet. A-Rab's selfprofessed lady-killer status was still in some doubt within the Gang, but he sure was something else at pissing the dames off.

"Then we'll just sit here."

Behind him, Action was sure he heard a whimper of panic coming from A-Rab's direction. "Oh no you won't." Making a face, Action turned to glare at Bridget as she opened her mouth. Oh terrific. They shared genetics - he _knew _how this was going to go if he didn't act quick.

"Just 'cos power's gone to your - "

"Shut up."

"But _Action - _"

"I've seen your baby pictures, alright Didge? I know where they're kept. So shut up." Action was gratified to see colour spreading over his cousin's face before she abruptly closed her mouth.

"Will ya get off your high horse, Action? This store ain't just for you Jets."

Boy, but Graziella could half be annoying. He'd always disliked her – her daft attitude and the way he constantly had to battle her for Riff's attention. Action jammed his hands down into his pockets, hard. "How about this," he retorted coolly, "I say you chicks cut out, and you chicks cut out. I've got the 'new job', remember?"

Graziella's jaw set; and for a moment she glowered at him, before tossing her hair defiantly. "Fine. Not like we wanted to hang here anyway." Snapping her fingers in a smooth imitation of Riff, she gestured for the girls to follow her out, before shooting an amused glance back at Action. "Oh, and enjoy our parting gift," she replied smoothly, before heading out with her head held high.

"Nice," Snowboy chuckled. "Tony and Riff never used to get them out that quick." But Action had already groaned, recognising the shadowy figure of Anybodys in the corner where she'd slunk in after the girls.

"Aw, Christ," he groaned. He didn't have patience to deal with Anybodys today. "Get lost, will ya Anybodys?"

The girl scowled on him, making a point to knock her shoulder roughly into Action's as she moved to the counter. "I gotta right to be in here as much as you do."

"The other chicks went _out_."

Her jaw tightened. "I ain't one of the chicks." Behind the young girl he could see A-Rab opening his mouth, and made a frantic motion for him to shut up. Anybodys gave him the creeps, but Doc would probably make them pay if anything was broken. "C'mon, Action, what've I gotta do to prove it to ya?"

The look in A-Rab's eyes was too desperate to pass up. He groaned, and then waved his hand indulgently.

"What, that you ain't one of the chicks?" A-Rab's expression was something else to behold; eager and repulsed all at the same time. He'd evidently been working on this one for a while. "Well, why don't you and me go into an alley some place and you give a visual demonstration?"

Action was not by nature a cowardly boy, but nevertheless he slowly covered his eyes as Anybodys turned, slowly, her blue eyes flashing fury and venom all at once. Baby John gave a single titter, and then shrank hastily behind his comic book again.

"You'd better take that back," the girl snarled, her self-control rigid enough to bend horseshoes around. Action could _see_ her veins standing out on ice-pale limbs.

A-Rab spread his hands cockily. He _really_ was going to have to find a lieutenant with a better survival rate when – _if – _he became leader. "Oh yeah? Make me!"

Remarkably, Anybodys merely turned her nose up at him. Action had to be impressed, even if it was in a detached, exasperated kind of way. _He_ would have clouted A-Rab by now. "I ain't wastin' my time with _you_," she sneered disdainfully, before turning back to Action. "C'mon Action, tell me! What've I gotta do to prove myself as a real Jet, I'll do anythin'!"

"Well, this evenin' we're all goin' to find the chicks and get laid," A-Rab drawled carelessly, leaning back on his chair before Action could even open his mouth to answer. His eyes were fixed mischeivously on Anybodys, wickedly challenging and unpleasant. "_All_ the Jets. So which dame are you gonna promote?"

"_That does it_!"

No-one else, Action was sure, had noticed the little glimmer that showed in Anybodys' eyes – but they heard the screech, and A-Rab _definitely_ saw the girl as she launched herself at him, hands grasping the front of his shirt as she shook him. It was a testament to the surprise of the attack that she managed to wrestle him off the chair before he even let out a yelp.

Action rolled his eyes. This had _gotta_ stop. Not only was Anybodys annoying, but having a Jet get beaten up by her was somewhat humiliating. Having wrenched him off his chair, Anybodys was now kneeling on A-Rab's chest and pummelling him pretty severely – that sort of thing got spread around. It didn't matter that his buddy looked as if this was the most hilarious thing to happen to him (not to mention _enjoying_ it a little). Shoving his way through the ring of Jets that were now clustering around the pair and shouting encouragements, he jammed his hands down on his hips. "Oi! Cut it, you two!"

Anybodys glared at him, before twisting her fingers into A-Rab's curly hair and smacking his head down against the floor, as if to indicate just exactly what Action could do with his advice.

"Hey!" As A-Rab, his expression shifting from indulgently amused to pissed off, began to push back, balling his hands into fists and smacking them into her sides, Action kicked him rather curtly. Fuming, he glowered at the wrestling pair, before grabbing Anybodys under the arms. His hand clipped roughly against the back of her skull. "I _said_; cut it!"

Glaring at him, Anybodys shook herself out of his grip and stalked off to a corner of the room, rubbing her head.

"Boy oh boy oh boy," Doc murmured when he paced back to the counter, taking a resentful swig of soda. "You're making friends like nobody's business today!"

He set his jaw. Jesus, this _really_ was the last thing he needed. "Don't start Doc."

"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your gang?"

Biting back a furious retort, Action promptly spun around to let out another furious groan. Where only a few seconds ago there had been A-Rab and Anybodys, there now was Joyboy and Mouthpiece. Brawling like a couple of alleycats; fists, knees, teeth and feet. That wasn't pummelling for amusement – that was _vicious_. And Action had to swear beneath his breath as he saw, glinting in the harsh light of the candy store, the missing pair of brass knuckles being used to smash repeatedly into Mouthpiece's gut.

-o-

I love Action. He's just too cool...


	3. There Ain't Nothing Like A Dame

**Notes: **Temporary hiatus? What temporary hiatus?

Scanning through my Documents the other day and found this - became very sad it had never been finished, and the Jets had been left to linger here, semi-permanently in limbo, with Action still unwittingly as their leader. It seemed to harsh to abandon them. So here's the next installment, in which things go from particularly bad to particularly worse.

Oh, and one of Didge's lines in particular is stolen from _Frasier_, if only because it's most brilliant rebuff that anyone could use...

-o-

3: There Ain't Nothing Like A Dame

-o-

Alright, so it was _one_ setback. _One_ little, tiny mistake. Anyway, it didn't matter – no-one had mentioned it. He didn't have to take nothing from nobody, and everyone _knew_ that, which was why the Jets had just pulled Mouthpiece and Joyboy apart, very quietly, and returned the brass knuckles to Tiger. Action had pointedly looked the other way when _that_ happened.

The only problem was, Ice was giving him that Look. The unpleasant, not-gonna-let-up Look. He didn't _say_ anything – every time he demanded to know what the hell he was being glared at for, Ice spread his hands innocently and shook his head – but then again he didn't have to. That _Look_ was bad enough.

Goddamn Joyboy! If he hadn't taken those knuckles none of this would have happened. Alright, so maybe they'd have still ended up beating several different types of shit out of each other, and – he shifted awkwardly – _alright_, so maybe the chicks would still have been pissed with them, but at least Ice wouldn't have been trying to x-ray him with his eyes round about now. And that silence – that edgy, doubtful silence from the Jets, _that_ was beginning to get on his nerves.

Flicking up the collar of his jacket, as if that would stop him from feeling Ice's eyes zapping into the back of his neck – Jesus H Christ, he was starting to think like Baby John and those comic books of his – Action led the Jets around another corner of the block, grinning with satisfaction despite himself as A-Rab and Tiger fell into step alongside him. Alright so maybe he didn't have quite the same knack as Riff did for keeping the gang as one big sickeningly happy family, but he could do _this_. Be on patrol, keep an eye out for Hawks. Fight. Action wasn't one for the touchy feely feelings stuff, but he could do _this_.

"Ok, Daddy-O?" Unlike Graziella, A-Rab's voice held a note of underlying concern and respect. Despite his hardened shell, Action couldn't help but feel a sense of relief lighten his step. He wasn't a sissy, but it still felt good to have his buddy on his side.

Not that he'd say that, of course. Grinning, he merely looped his fist in a roundhouse punch, catching A-Rab on the shoulder. "All we need's a coupla Hawks and the night'd be pretty much perfect."

A-Rab smacked a fist into his palm eagerly. "Anythin' you say, Action."

All in all, it was turning out to be a good night. Alright, so they'd spotted no Hawks yet, but that only meant they were keeping their fat noses out of their turf. 'Sides, the night was young, and if Action caught a single Hawk he was going to make some pretty poor fish out of him tonight. Trooping down the sidewalk, feeling the reassuring _thuds_ of the Jets' footfalls behind him, Action smirked as a smartly dressed businessman and his dame stepped smoothly out of the way, the man's arm looping protectively around his girl's waist. Boy, it was worth not coming across any action just to see the terrified looks on their faces! A slightly smug swagger in his step, Action nudged Mouthpiece with a grin, tempted to knock the square on his ass just to show Ice that he knew how to handle guys like that…

"Well, well, well – isn't this a little past your bedtime, fellas?"

…and promptly groaned, because those censorious looks from Ice and A-Rab were telling him what he already knew, that he had forgotten to set the lookout.

Seething, Action swivelled around on his heels, a sharp snap from his fingers telling the gang to fall in behind him. _Fuck_. True to form, there was Lieutenant Shrank, leaning casually against his car with a fat stogie clamped between his teeth and a smirk dancing over every inch of his face. Goddamit, they'd walked straight past him! Fuming, Action cracked his knuckles. It wasn't like they were doing anything illegal, hell, they were on their own turf and for once not getting into any kind of jazz. But that didn't matter – Shrank had caught him off guard, and the sonofabitch _knew_ it. Action didn't like to be caught on the raw…why the _hell_ had he forgotten to set a lookout for Shrank and his ilk?

"We don't got no curfew to stick to tonight," Action retorted coolly, feeling a little – but damn well not much – buoyed by the feeling of the Jets clustering behind them. Man, if he could just keep his cool with Shrank then wouldn't that just put Ice in his place? It would certainly get the Jets believing in him, once and for all. Setting his jaw, he reached back to thump Baby John on the shoulder. "And don' worry, we'll get the kid home before he needs his beddy-byes."

Shrank just sneered. "Your parental concern touches me. And quit lookin' so snotty, A-Rab."

"Unfortunate me, it's my natural look," A-Rab, who was glowering at Shranke with all the fondness that one would regard a squashed frog, protested.

Clicking his tongue, Action stepped forward, bringing up his jaw in a silent challenge. "You got anythin' else we can assist you with, _Lieutenant?_"

The sonofabitch took his sweet time in looking Action up and down, smirking all the while. "Assist, Action? What a lot of big words we're learning." He chuckled, and took another puff from the stogie, making sure to blow the smoke into Joyboy's eyes. "Not for the moment, no. I'll be sure to drop by and talk later, fellas, if something springs to mind." With one last smirk he tossed the cigar at the nearest pair of shoes - which happened to be A-Rab's – and sauntered off, whistling out of tune as he did so.

Jesus, but that guy got under his skin! As Tiger began to mutter that the next cop that walked into their turf would be walking out again on two broken legs, he jammed his hands down into his pockets – _hard_ – and made a big deal of not meeting the reproachful gazes of the gang. Lookout…well for Chrissakes, what did they expect him to do about it? Riff and Tony were the ones who sorted out all that junk, it wasn't _his_ responsibility – alright, so it was _now_, but that didn't mean this was his _fault_! I mean – well – look, everyone _knew_ this wasn't his strength, and why did a leader have to _deal_ with this crap anyway? He should be fighting, ordering, leadering…when did details start coming into it? Why the hell did he have to deal with stuff that made him make mistakes?

And, like all good leaders of men who have made a mistake and know it, he looked around for a scapegoat.

His eyes found Baby John, still staring after Shrank with that goddamn dopey look on his face, and promptly narrowed. "Baby John, weren't you the last one to be lookout?"

The boy blinked. "Uh…well yeah, but…"

"Well until I say otherwise, you're _still_ lookout, you got that?"

Baby John's head drooped noticeably, and he nodded.

A-Rab nudged Action gently as they swung into step again. "Hey, go easy on the kid, he's on our side."

He gritted his teeth. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his best friend exactly where he could stuff it, but Ice was watching and he was pretty damn sure that _Ice_ wouldn't shut up when A-Rab would. Instead he rubbed his neck irritably, casting a look over his shoulder. Baby John was dragging his feet slowly, Mouthpiece and Joyboy were glowering at each other even as they walked along side by side, and Big Deal – well, he didn't know who'd spat in _his_ coke, but if the guy kept on staring at the sidewalk like that he'd trip over his own stupid feet. "I know," he growled, and shrugged. To hell with it. It didn't matter. He was leading the gang, goddamn it, and he was going to damn well make a good job of it even if the rest of the sodding gang weren't willing to go along with it. After all, this was America, this was a democracy. Everyone was entitled to vote, unless disqualified by reason of age, gender, or not being Action.

-o-

"Doc? Hey Doc, how's it kickin'?"

Doc smiled reluctantly into the receiver of the telephone as he balanced the contraption in the crook of his ear, Riff's broad voice crackling and jumping over the line. He had two customers waiting and Baby John perched at the counter and ingesting far more sugar than could be legally good for him, but nevertheless he turned to the wall. Anyone was willing to make time for Riff.

"Is that even grammatically correct?"

Riff's laughter was loud and indulgent. "Yeah, yeah, I get it; I'm an ignorant JD. Say Doc, any of my boys down there with ya?"

Smoothly Doc extended his arm, dropping the telephone into Baby John's sherbet-encrusted hand. "He wants to talk to you."

Baby John slurped down the remnants of his sherbet, his voice sticky and thick when he eventually brought the 'phone to his mouth. "Hey, Daddy-O!" Nearly bouncing up and down with excitement at being the first one to talk to their second in command, he flashed a gleeful grin at Doc. "How's the holiday?"

"A blast, Baby John, a blast - I got Tony's ma wrapped right roun' my little finger." There was a crackle, as if Riff was shifting the receiver from one ear to the next. "How's the action at home?"

"Oh, great!" He briefly ran a reel of the events over the last couple of days, the highlights of which included Action forgetting to set a look-out three days running, Action sending Gee-Tar scouting into enemy territory straight into the waiting arms of Officer Krupke, and Action rejecting a possible peace treaty with the Hawks. Events over the past week included a _lot _of Action. "Fine…pretty good…erm, when're you comin' back?"

"Couple more days. How's Action doing?"

"He's…he's trying real hard. When did you say you were coming back?"

Riff laughed. "Aw, Baby John, can't get along without me, huh? Listen kiddo I've got to run, but tell the boys to behave themselves, you hear me?"

"Well hurry back, everybody here misses you – they're all asking 'when's Riff coming back?" Baby John hung up the phone and grimaced noticeably.

Maybe if he hid down in the cellar for the next few days…

-o-

He didn't even have to order a coke the next morning before his headaches kicked in. Rounding into Doc's, a whistle dying on his lips, Action groaned as he saw the girls clustered around the counter behind Graziella, muttering hastily amongst each other and casting him some _very_ unhappy looks. Even Anybodys was there, her pallid arms folded sullenly across her chest, her miserable mug even more sour than usual. Beside her Bridget was flinging a particularly dirty glare in his direction, Pauline was tapping her foot impatiently, even Velma was scowling.

_Ooh, goody_, he thought blackly, _maybe they'll kill each other and put them out of my misery._

Honestly, who forgot to tell him that leadering would be so damned _hard_? Mouthpiece and Joyboy kept sniping at each other no matter how many times he told them to knock it off, Tiger insisted on going over the armoury _every damned day_, and Baby John had taken to slinking around him like a kicked puppy and flinching every time he spoke. And Shrank and Krupke kept on popping up like jack-in-the-boxes, and grinning like them too. Doc kept _looking_ at him, which was bad – though not as bad as _Ice_, who had begun asking the stupidest questions as if he was some kind of an idiot. Did you make sure to check where the lads are scouting, Action? Did you set a look-out, Action? As if he would forget…again.

And now here were the girls. _If only they took Ice with them too…_

"We," Graziella announced grandly, "are getting' mighty sick of being given the brush-off all of a sudden, Action."

He glared coolly back at her. "Well jeepers, Graz, I didn't realise you felt that way."

The redhead's hands smacked down hard against the table. "You know what I mean! Ever since Riff and Tony left town you've been swannin' around like you're the queen bee, ordering us around and kicking us out when it don't suit ya. This candy store ain't just your own private clubhouse, ya know."

"Funny, I thought it was."

Clarice shook her head angrily. "All this 'ditch the dames and expect them to come running when we snap our fingers' crap. You're treating us like trash!"

Action opened his mouth, and then wisely shut it again.

There was a limit to how much a guy could put up with dames, when all was said and done. Alright, so they were good for one thing in particular, but when that was over all they wanted to do was _talk_, and _spend time together_, and in short hang around so tight that it made a guy old before his time. And _this_ lot, who had made it their role in life to attach themselves to the gang twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week….He gave a shudder. Chicks, more trouble than they were worth. He couldn't be the only one; he had heard the guys grumble about it enough, even Riff started getting antsy when Graziella hung around too long. Glancing around at the guys he caught mirroring looks of exasperation on their faces – apart from A-Rab, who was leaning on the counter next to Pauline and trying to look cool.

"We're sick 'n tired of being bossed around by you fellas."

If this was how Graziella treated Riff, Action thought with all the world-weariness of a battle-worn soldier, no wonder he hared off God-knows-where with Tony and his family.

"Does this have a _point_?"

"They're sayin' you make a lousy leader," Anybodys snapped.

Action narrowed his eyes darkly at the skinny little tomboy. She was doing this on purpose, he just _knew_, this was just some new way of her trying to torment him. "What the hell're you playing at? You never sided with the dames before."

"Riff never _hit_ before!" Anybodys rubbed the back of her head sullenly.

"Quit your whining. You're always saying how you're as tough as any of the guys."

"Then let me in the gang! Come on Action, I can prove it to ya, let me just show y – "

"Alrighty, that does it." Without warning Action jerked himself from his seat, catching Anybodys sharply around the waist and bodily dragging her to the door. To the accompaniment of great cheers and catcalls he pushed her sharply out of the candy store, ignoring the barrage of curses, and slammed the door shut. "And you can stay out until you learn howta be a girl, you got that?"

His answer came in the form of a hail of gravel flung from Anybody's freckled hand, leaving scratches and dents across the glass screen of the door. For once his act as leader was met with a rousing chorus of applause, even a dry chuckle from Ice. Bizarrely enough it was his best friend who was pouting.

"What the hell's your problem?"

"You can't get rid of _her!_" A-Rab exclaimed indignantly. "She's my entertainment. What am I s'posed to do for kicks now?"

"A-Rab, you're a creep."

"Sure you're not just lookin' in a mirror?" The teenager gestured miserably to Didge, who had spoken. "Y'see, it's just not the same!"

Action turned to his cousin. "And what've _you_ gotta say in all this?"

He was starting to get more than a little worried about Didge. Alright, so she hung out with _Anybodys_, who was a pill but more interesting in busting up any guy than dating them, but she'd also taken to spending time with Pauline and Clarice, and girls who actually, y'know, did….stuff….with the guys. Which meant that Didge had probably contemplated doing…stuff. With the guys. As in his guys. As in the Jets. And that was Wrong. In so many, many ways. Action would be the first to admit he wasn't exactly a family guy, but there was family and then there was family, and Didge was his _cousin_, and there were certain things that were Not Gonna Happen. Fortunately as leader he'd found a simple and easy solution to the problem: grab the offending Jets – in this case Big Deal and Mouthpiece – by the scruffs of the neck, take them to one side, and explain just exactly what parts of their anatomy would be being fed to them if they ever, _ever_ started making eyes at his cousin again.

Judging from the look on his cousin's face, the subject in hand hadn't been far from _her_ thoughts either. "Betcha know _exactly_ what I've 'gotta say in all this'. _You keep scarin' my dates away._ I've never _seen_ so many guys run away from me!"

"I'd've thought you'd be used to it." A-Rab shook his head sadly. "Nope. Just don't feel right."

Didge patiently patted the Jet on his curly head and ignored him. "The last guy that came to the door you nearly made piss his pants, and he wasn't coming to visit _me_!"

"Don't care."

"But _Action_ – "

The older boy gritted his teeth. Prospective presidents of the best gang in the whole damn city should be worrying about things like cops and rival gangs and rumbles and suchlike. They should _not_ have had to worry about who was doing what to their baby cousin, who by all rights should still be playing with her colouring sets and train tracks and _not…_well, not with the Jets. "Nuh-uh," he growled, and saw her eyes roll. "You're still a kid, you're gonna _act_ like a kid until I say so. And that means behaving yourself."

With a cocky grin, A-Rab hooked a finger through the belt buckle on Didge's jeans. "Hey, if you're so hungry for some good-lookin', tough guy, why don't you go out with me?"

Snowboy let out a low whistle; Action scowled. And Didge, God bless her, without so much as a blink, held her hand a couple of inches over both of their heads and stared him straight in the eye: "If you ain't at least this tall, you can't get on this ride."

_That_ was why he loved his cousin. Action cuffed her lightly across the shoulder. The elbow delivered to his buddy's gut was considerably less affectionate.

"Gee, you seem to be doing a real nice job there, Action."

He grit his teeth solidly at Velma's comment. Hell, maybe he wasn't doing the best job in the world, maybe – as everyone seemed oh-so keen of letting him know – he was a stuff-up, but at least he was damn well putting in the effort. Something that was increasingly difficult with the girls giving him hell every few minutes. "Yeah, well, I'm doin' my best," he retorted hotly. "And _maybe_ it'd be plenty easier if you lot weren't getting under my feet all the livelong day. We're all sick of you gettin' in our way all the time, me and the rest of the boys. Ain't that right?"

He cast a sharp look at the guys, daring them to disagree.

"Yes, Action."

"You got it, Action."

"_ACHOO!_"

He flapped a hand irritably at the offending Ice. "Stuff it, Camille. And that's a yes, as well."

"We thought you might say that." Graziella smiled that sickly saccharine smile of hers and exchanged a Look with Velma. Which, as all of the Jets agreed upon after, was your first warning: you could never have chicks discussing things and sharing ideas, they might get round to actually _thinking_, and that only led to trouble. "So we girls decided to cool it for a while."

"Beg your pardon?" Snowboy demanded.

Pauline batted her eyes in a dumb show of ignorance. "Well, you boys seem to be lovin' your own company so much, so we thought we'd stop playing the gooseberry and leave you to it."

O….kay. Action could _feel_ the atmosphere of Doc's drop sharply ever-downwards. Graziella's words had introduced an electric hairdryer into the bathtub of life. _This_, he thought, _could be set to go very wrong very quickly._

"What we're saying," Graz continued sweetly, "is that things're gonna get very cool around here."

"Very – "

"And very lonely."

A-Rab nearly choked. "You wouldn't dare!"

The redhead widened her eyes innocently. "Us? What did we do? We're just doin' exactly what you tell us to – leaving you alone." With a saucy whistle, Graziella jerked her head, tip-tapping her way to the door.

Never in the history of mankind had such long faces accompanied such a triumphant exodus. Didge ducked around A-Rab with a jaunty toss of her hair, head held high; Minnie and Pauline tapped their feet side by side, skirting past their guys as they did so. Gee-Tar and Tiger gaped after them as, one by one, they filed from the store; Snowboy was pouting, even Baby John looked particularly mournful. Ice, his girl still entwined in his arms, was blearily chuckling - right up until the very moment when Velma blew him a kiss and hastened after the girls, slipping a slender arm through that of her best friend.

_Umm…oops?_

Action turned. And ever eye was looking particularly unhappily at him.

"_What_?"

-o-


End file.
